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Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

We pile the corpses thirty feet high and Kazh lights them up with his flamer. Gordreg cackles to himself as he struggles to impale the few fire caste warriors onto improvised spikes made from street lights; he started his chore by muttering something about, 'looking down on their new servants' but it never pays to ask Gordreg to repeat himself so we let him get on with it alone. By the time he is finished, sweating and soot stained, the bodies of the Tau stare blankly down into the fire and their cues and loose webbing pouches shiver in the updraft.

Most humans think that Astartes don't understand their emotions, and in the main, we maintain that we struggle with them, but for the most we do know. I know that the marines didn't like that we slaughtered their enemies, and they don't like that we are burning them. I don't give a care.

"So what message does this send?"

"It says we know and it says we don't care." I look at Miss Foster and I wonder... I wonder how it is that she can forget the atrocities that she has born witness to in just the few days I have known her, let alone from before. "What message do you think these Kesslin troops and their ilk were sending when they attacked your school Miss Foster, or firebombed civilians as they fled in the street?"

"So that's it is it, an eye for eye? We sink to their level? Shouldn't we be more than that? Shouldn't you?" Now I genuinely struggle to imagine her feelings. She is frowning and her eyes are liquid and there is a beseeching quality to her expression and perhaps a great sadness.

"Explain to me Miss Foster, just exactly how I could be 'more than that'?" She blinks and frowns harder, I think she believes I am mocking her but can see from my face that I am not. She looks confused for a second.

"Some of those soldiers tried to surrender, killing them was murder by the Articles of War that my country abides by. You could have taken them prisoner. You could have laid out the bodies peacefully and the aliens, there was no necessity to do that to them and they may not be human, and they be attempting to subjugate my world, but they're only soldiers in their own way." She looks away, towards the pyre and drags a hand down the side of her face and over her open mouth, their is a look of anguish etched into her features. "You could have just done nothing and it would have been better than this, this barbarism."

She jerks around suddenly and I realise it is because I have put my hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry." The moment seems to stretch out. "I just don't agree, and neither would my Brothers if you could get one of them to give you answer on this."

"I don't care what your Brothers would say, I'm asking you. I just- I mean, can't you just be your own man, can't you just see that what you're doing is wrong, it isn't even productive, there must be more than this, to you? Your not like your Brothers, I know that, I- I know. Please."

Please. Please...

"But I am like them?" How could she think otherwise? "And I have never been a man. I was a boy, and then I was a warrior of the Emperor. I was never a man, never had a man's feelings or a man's dreams or a man's fears or a man's desires. I told you before Miss Foster, 'Serve the Emperor, kill His enemies', that's all there is, nothing more. That is our duty, our purpose, that is our joy in life. And if not that then..." I look at the pyre and shrug. "Oblivion."

"No." Her voice seems to come from far away. "No." She says more forcefully. "You're wrong. And you're sidestepping the issue. I don't question your purpose, I question your actions. And I'm sure you must believe that people can reform. Recant? People make mistakes, they make wrong decisions. Don't you believe that they can be forgiven, given another chance?"

Brant and Croagan approach at the same time.

"My men are ready to move out. Are yours?" The Commander stands with his arms crossed and brow furrowed. He doesn't wait for a reply but turns on his heel and then quickly stops and steps back with one foot. He turns his head but doesn't actually look back. "Are you coming Jenni or are you riding with them?" Her body sways sideways towards Brant but her eyes are locked on mine, she barely hesitates but that split second is too long for Brant and he carries on walking without another word. He hauls himself up into a transport and slams the door shut, vanishing into the shadowy depths of the cab.

"Mmm, I think he was a little bit annoyed." Croagan purses his lips and then grins that big dumb grin of his. "I guess you will be riding with us afterall then, Jenni, well, as soon as Brother Carleeson unhands you of course." I see Croagan lift his eyebrows and then tilt his head with a smile. I might also add there is something dangerous in his eyes, but then Croagan always has had something dangerous in his eyes.

"I guess I'll be safer with you anyway." She makes an effort to be lighthearted but Croagan bursts into guffaws and walks away.

"Come, we need to be off."
   
Made in ca
Longtime Dakkanaut






Toronto

Nice!!! I really like it!

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Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

The marines repacked their transports and managed to clear two of them for our use. P.F.G. Dright is assigned to us thanks to his comms training as well as the other two surviving marines who I had encountered so many days ago; Nurez, a swarthy skinned woman with a long ponytail of obsidian black hair and an iritating habit of pouting smiles and spinning a large, custom pistol around in her hand and Korhein, assigned as our driver, an intense and fussy little man who doesn't talk much and who had spent much of his time before we moved out adjusting his seat and the transport's wing mirrors and wiping down the instrument panels.

The front cab is a stepped bay with a one piece bench for the driver and his mates and a horseshoe of seats in the back with a back-to-back row of seats up the centre aisle. The back bed is an open topped row of wire frame steel benches and the same pattern of vehicle is being used by the rest of my Brothers, both being large enough to accomadate our post-human physiologies. All of my heavy weapon armed Brothers have taken seats on the beds of both trucks and Modak has chosen to swoop alongside, providing us with a meagre amount of air cover and that is probably for the best; he makes even us nervous, never mind the humans.

Brother Ferrax is nursemaiding the younger two children, Lissie and, I have now learned, Grethor Nuelins Junior, a particualrly small boy with a mop of blonde curls who insists on his full name being used at all times. The pair seem to have taken a shine to Ferrax and it is probably fairer to say they are nursemaiding him; they are surprisingly adept at reading his moods and encouraging his cooperation. Strange... Right now they are keeping him calm by sleeping whilst leaning on him. Ferrax's eyes are blank and distant, staring into the middle distance. He absently strokes the tips of his finger's through Lissie's hair, his hand big enough to encircle her skull with room to spare. I wonder what he is thinking about.

The brother, as I have been thinking of him, Edgal as he is otherwise known, is in a transport with the marines although the older girl, Resecka, is sat opposite me, linking arms with Miss Jenniser Foster. The woman sits with her head turned to the right so she can see out of the blast-proofed glass window. That's how we are for a very long time, the jouncing of the transport rocking us in our seats every now and then is the only movement any of us make. Of course, that just leaves Ashney. I slowly tilt my head down and there she is, still staring up at me. Insufferable child. I see the contrail of the missile reflected in her blue eyes. The transport shunts sideways, lifting off its tyres but to his credit Korhein regains control with a snarl of effort.

"Stay calm."

The humans obey as I get to my feet, hunched badly in the small space. I crab walk to a hatch big enough to get my head out. We are on the autoexpressway, a twenty lane, raised road. It is littered with wrecked vehicles and it is from these our attackers have launched their ambush. Hordes of civilians, all armed, are running alongside the convoy. They hurl stones and molotov cocktails. Some are letting loose with automatic weapons and I see another missile corkscrew towards us but a stabbing beam of lascannon fire intercepts it in mid air; Grethuel, he has always been an impossibly gifted marksman. An arrow skitters across the cab roof several feet from my head. An arrow!

"Oh man!"

I duck back inside and see what Korhein already has; a barricade of burnt out hulks right across the auto, coming into view from behind the slope of the road. Even as I watch dozens of figures scramble to take up position. As we close I see cars, vans, busses, artics and all manner of civilian and some military vehicles pushed to the distant hard shoulder. There are suitcases and clothes everywhere, the detritus of hundreds of people fleeing the fighting. The transport jounces again as we go over a gap in the lane allowing the road to swell in the heat without buckling. It also marks the point at which a forty feet wide crater has blasted through the colossal bridge and two hundred feet below I catch a brief glimpse of all the corpses as we hurtle past.

++Modak, did you see the bodies below us?++

It is a moment before the sibilant tones of the Mahtar Charkaz come in over my comm-link.

++I did Brother Carleeson. What of it?++

++It is an outrage. These filth must be exterminated!++

Above me comes the scream and howl of a plasma cannon. The blasts of roiling matter in their electric shells vapourise great bites from the barricade, chewing out a big enough gap for our transport to pass through.

++A needless delay Carleeson. We have more important targets for our wrath++

**Astartes come in! Repeat, Astartes come in!**

I reach over Korhein's shoulder and snatch the mic from its cradle before Dright can get a hand on it. His voice crackling over the line, Brant sounds frantic.

**Commander?**

**Carleeson? All you damn Space Marines sound the same. I didn't get any luck with the others. We need to put these savages down! Tell me you saw what they've done?**

**Yes Commander, I have** A needless delay? There is a terrific explosion and I see the fireball bloom in the transport's wing mirror. One of the rearmost marine transports. **Commander, report!**

**They just smoked one of my transports! Vuck! We need to curbstomp these !**

++Modak, we need to retaliate++

++I disagree Brother. We will lose more of the humans if we stop and we cannot afford to waste ammunition on these dregs++

++Modak...!++

++Your sentimentality will get you killed one of these days Brother. If it assuages your conscience, we can always come back++ I can hear the smile in his voice and it makes my blood boil. How I loath him now! Hatred! Hatred! I can feel my knuckles pop in my gauntlets. Time slows as I watch the detonations of bolter fire rake across the primitive barriers of the feral humans. Thank you Modak, you are right of course. Hatred. The mission. Duty. ++Commander Brant will hate us for this Modak++

A pause.

++Good++

**Commander Brant? We must not stop. We can return once the war is won and deal to these creatures. We will have all the time in the world then to deal to these creatures.**

**But my men! I-**

**More of them will die here if we stop and we will need every one of them if we are to succeed. There is more at stake here than the lives of any one of us**

"Korhein, keep driving," I say, releasing my finger from the send button of the vox-mic so I can talk to the driver. "Stop for nothing you understand me? Stop for nothing."

"All due respect, but I don't take orders from you sir."

I put a hand on his shoulder with one thumb up the back of his neck and I lean in, squeezing him firmly enough to send the message.

"Keep. Driving."

**Carleeson?**

**Commander?**

**You won't stop will you. And we can't stop without you.** There is no question in his tone, just a quiet resignation but I hear the bitterness hidden underneath. I don't reply. **Fine** There is a muffled noise over the vox as he releases a breath over his mic and then the vox clicks off.

We hurtle through the still glowing breach, drooping shreds of bodywork flapping in our slipstream. There is a spill of detritus as we clear the other side and Modak thunders over with a big human struggling in his taloned boots. The Mahtar Charkaz swoops up and up ignoring the rain of blows the human rains down on him. I can see that under normal circumstances such attacks would demolish a normal man but Modak is not a normal man. He lets the human go, like a crow dropping a shell on a rock to break it open. But Modak does not let the man hit the ground, he swoops down and catches him. As the convoy continues on its way, the scrap barricade disappearing behind us, Modak drops his prey a number of times, toying with him, letting him get closer and closer to the road hurtling by underneath, before he catches him.

Everyone on the convoy gets more than ample opportunity to see this little game. Modak takes an ankle in each talon and a wrist in each claw and jets up high on his jump pack. Modak rears back like a cobra and looks down into the face of the big man held spread eagled in his grasp. And he screams. He does it softly at first, causing the big man's skin to drizzle away. I cannot hear his cries of agony but I can imagine. With a final yell Modak detonates the human, his grizzly remains splashing wide over the faded tarmac.

++He looked like a leader to me. Good enough to quell the humans' ill humours you think?++

++A small measure of revenge is always welcome, is it not Brother?++

I hear Modak's laughter over the comm.
   
Made in ca
Longtime Dakkanaut






Toronto

Aaaah... Can't wait for more.

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Adeptus Mechanicus: 8,400 Points
Alpha Legion: 4,400 Points
Astra Militarum: 7,500 Points
Dark Angels: 16,800 Points
Imperial Knights: 12,500 Points
Legio Titanicus: 5,500 Points
Slaaneshi Daemons: 3,800 Points
 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

"Are we nearly there yet?" Croagan can barely sit still, the long hours of confinement finally eroding his patience.

"Emperor's sake Croagan, even the sprogs aren't whining as much as you." Brother Sehrag intones quietly. He doesn't look up, his attention fixed firmly on the flat of his combat knife. He holds the blade up near his eye checking for imperfections that even a Tech-Magos wouldn't see with a fully equipped tooling line and a microscope. Sehrag's story is that he was gifted the simple weapon by one of Marneus Calgar's own honour guard. No-one knows if his claim is true. No-one cares.

"We're about fifteen klicks shy of the wilds but we'll have to come off and go through Port Maythen." Korhein chimes in without turning around.

A strange silence descends on the cab. With a soft rasp Sehrag slips his combat knife back into its sheath, Croagan is staring at the floor, gnawing on his bottom lip. The others all look glaze eyed and weary. I think about going up through the hatch, I imagine myself doing it, several times, picturing the actions of standing, crab-walking to the hatch, twisting the handle, looking out, but I don't move, I feel curiously glued to my seat, I can't even lift my hands, I just imagine doing it instead.

The engine note changes down and I turn my head to watch as Korhein takes us down an off ramp. Ahead, the expressway comes to an abrupt end, a large swathe of gritty tarmac painted over with white chevrons and edged in ragged bushes and pointed trees. At the base of the ramp I can see that where the expressway might have run, had it continued, is a steep grassy bank and heavy concrete stilts boxed in with timber panels although a gate is open revealing the area that is fenced off as nothing but a patch of heavily rutted bare soil with a faded, old portable works cabin and two rusty, dark green shipping containers stacked side-by-side.

The ramp leads up to a circular junction and off to the left I can see the ocean but Korhein takes us right, the curve of the road giving me an angle back on the convoy where I can see curious faces glancing around. Korhein takes the first left off the junction passing large warehouses on our left, each one with the roof collapsed in with sooty black smears around the entrances where fire has blasted the doors away. But the damage is old, green, leafy bushes cling tenaciously to the crumbling walls and security barriers are pushed down at one end of the lot, heavily caked in mud and there is a large pile of dead, brown tree clippings dumped in one corner. The road begins to incline, taking us up and over railway tracks but my view is quickly obscured by a high plate-steel guard fence. Back down the other side we head up and across another, smaller, circular junction and I see a sign that indicates straight on for the 'Town Centre' and it seems that this is where Korhein is taking us.

As the buildings start to overcrowd the road I see Modak jet ahead and land like an oversized crow on the clock tower of a red brick building that has 'Library' carved into an ornate stone lintel, even though large, gaudy billboards clumsily bolted into the fine brickwork indicate the building is actually some kind of kitchen showroom. Korhein drops down a gear and I find myself on my feet and heading for the hatch. With a clearer view I see the streets are deserted but there is nothing like the destruction I saw when I first made planetfall. The streets are empty, but vehicles seem untouched, the buildings intact. There are no bodies.

Modak flutters down, wobbling slightly as he matches speed with the transport before landing on the cab roof on all fours with a gentle clomp. He is slightly ahead and to my left and he doesn't turn but his voice comes in over the vox, sounding slightly distorted and tinny thanks to the vehicles slipstream buffeting over Makorro's old Mk V.

++Too Quiet++

++Do you detect an enemy presence?++

++Auspex returns negative. I can feel them though++

With that he launches himself back into the air, wheeling away down a side street and out of sight. We continue, over several crossroads, through the centre of town and back out the other side, a series of staggered junctions taking us past an omnibus station, the multi-decked vehicles all parked neatly alongside tunnels of nicotine yellow acrylic glass covering rows or paddle seats. The place is deserted except for a single wire trolley piled high with bags of shopping, pushed carefully to one side to keep the waiting area clear.

I check the signs which have now changed to a different colour to help direct drivers more easily onto the route out of the town centre. I see one mention 'The Wilds'. We skirt the western edge of the town, travelling up a steep curving gradient that gives a perfect view down and over Port Maythen. It's as if all the inhabitants just got up and walked away, but tidied everything up first. Except for that trolley, the only thing that comes close to indicating that humans once lived here and perhaps left in a hurry.

As trees lining the road start to thicken and obscure my view of the town I just manage to catch a glimpse of a bright, blue pulse and then Modak's anguished cry comes in over the vox, abruptly cut short. I bang my fist on the cab roof and dip down through the hatch, yelling for Korhein to stop. The transport halts quickly, heavy tires skidding along the road but I am already out and on the ground, my Brothers falling in behind me.

"What was that?" Croagan calls, his brow knotted with consternation.

"I don't know, there was a flash. Modak is in trouble."

I think about what we are doing as I sense, rather than see, that the rest of my Brothers are leaving the transports and even marines are hopping down and running over to join us. Modak is just one individual and there is a world at stake. I stop running.

"What is it, why have you stopped?"

"The convoy needs to keep moving Croagan." I glance across at the closest marines, all jogging to a confused halt. "We didn't stop when we lost a transport, we can't afford to stop now."

"All very equitable Carleeson but as it happens I value Modak's life a little higher than a few humans."

"There is much more at stake here than any of our lives. This place smelled like a trap from the moment we got here, we cannot allow ourselves to be drawn into an ambush."

"You propose we leave Modak to his fate then?"

"He would."

"Well I'm not Modak and I don't take orders from you Carleeson so I'm going back. You stay with the convoy, I'll do this on my own if I have to." Croagan, huffs and turns away, ducking through the trees and out of sight.

++Commander Brant?++

++Brother Carleeson? What's going on?++

++I need you to keep the convoy moving. Pull your men back to their transports and keep going++

++You know eventually we're going to have to fight our way through? Here's as good a place to start as any++

++I appreciate the sentiments Commander but I must refuse, for the good of the mission. Keep moving++

I vox my Brothers and urge them to stay and I see those furthest back getting onto their transport, Gordreg beating them with his fists where they seem reluctant.

++Look++ Commander Brant comes back over the vox. ++A squad of my men are already over there with you and your transports half empty already anyway. You keep two transports and my men to act us backup, you do whatever the hell it is your doing and catch us up. Brant out++

The rest of the convoy move over, overtaking the parked transports. I see Gordreg walking back down the centre row of benches on the rearmost vehicle, as if trying to stay as close to us as possible. He raises one hand in a slight wave and I raise mine and then he is gone, over the brow of the hill.

"Dright, Korhein, pick five men and stay here. Give us thirty minutes and if we aren't back by then get moving. Ferrax, I want you here as well, keep an eye on the civilians and make sure the marines get out of here if we don't come back. Do you understand Brother?" I ask, putting my hand on Ferrax's shoulder. He nods back at me.

Miss Foster gives me a sad smile. "Why does this feel like saying goodbye?"

"You're not getting rid of me that easily. Stay here with the children."

"I'm coming with you!"

"Ash-"

"No! Sorry miss but I'm going." For some reason that cracks me up and I laugh but there is no more time to debate and I am already jogging away down the bank in long steps and half jumps.

"Come if your coming," I call back. "But keep up!"

The girl goes one better than that and launches herself down at me, almost knocking me down the embankment and forcing me to grab a branch as I stumble past, which snaps, but slows me enough for me to regain by balance. Toes on the lip of my belt and one hand curled around the grille of my backpack, Ashney hangs off my back but her weight is so slight I barely even feel her. She has her pistol in her other hand, aiming over my head. Madness.

I skid down through a thick layer of pine needles and hop over a crash barrier and crunch down into a service alley that terminates at a set of concrete filled yellow bollards that act as a barrier between the alley and the foot of the sloping road we've just come from. Directly opposite me is a small vehicle parking lot, enclosed by a low brick wall topped with chain link. To my left is a brick power house and left of that the rear wall of a warehouse. The buildings, power house and car park all look new, the bricks bright and the gravel in the soak away running the length of the alley is clean. At the far end of the alley, crouched down at the corner of the warehouse wall Croagan is waiting for us.

"The flash came from that direction, approximately four hundred yards from this location." I say as I kneel down next to Croagan, who glances back almost with a double take as he sees Ashney gazing down at him but he says nothing, curling his lip in a silent rebuke and shaking his head. A series of rumbling detonations roll through the streets away to our left followed by a hollow bang.

"Come on!"

Croagan is up and running, leading the way. Behind me are another ten Astartes and about the same again, slightly more perhaps, of marines. We move quickly, keeping low and slipping around the edges of buildings, barely checking for hostiles as we cross open ground. Moving around the corner of one building the sounds of battle become clear suddenly as if they were muted until that very moment. Pulse rifles, the crack of some kind of solid projectile weapon and something altogether more potent that sounds like a flare of gas being ignited in a large tube, a strange, resonant, high-pitched cough.

Croagan doesn't wait to assess the situation, he doesn't need to, centuries of experience and post-human physiology telling him at a glance what minutes of careful observation would tell an ordinary man. His first bolter round punches through the thick collar of a Pathfinder, the detonation of the mass reactive throwing the Tau's corpse to the ground as if it had been floored by a giant's hand. The second pathfinder almost manages to turn around before Croagan's second bolt punches through its chest.

Those kills are the only advantage our sudden appearance grants us, the rest of the Tau force quickly compensating for our presence and bringing their rifles to bear. Brother Keinos is hit multiple times as he tries to duck down behind a twisted, bronze sculpture and he staggers away with acrid smoke belching up from his neck seal before collapsing on his face, dead. Even if we save Modak, these slit head Tau have taken one of my Brothers regardless. Ashney fires over my head and I see a Tau clamp a hand to its neck, cyan blood pumping from the wound before the girl gets three more shots into the collapsing Fire Warrior, the bullets splitting the alien's carapace and shattering its helmet optics. Heh.

The Tau's quick and ferocious response sputters as the marines make their contribution to the fight. From behind me they open up with a heavy weapon, laying down suppressing fire but they are then quickly forced to move as human troops open fire on them, the source of the solid round firing I had heard. I give them a quick glance and they look like the elite troopers I killed after I first met Miss Foster and the children.

Despite everything this is only a small force and with a dozen Astartes the opposition is only academic. Then the Riptide appears. The sound I heard earlier was the battlesuit's Ion Accelerator. It coughs again and where three of my Brothers stood, almost nothing remains, whisps of their armour still under motion clatter to the ground like shed skin. The colossal machine nimbly sidesteps and jets up and over the open plaza where the Tau are hunkered down behind benches, concrete plinths and brick flowerbeds. Under its weight stone slabs crack as it thumps back down and fires again. Another two of my Brothers perish, Brother Aecodd gruesomely still alive, his front vaporised and his glistening skeleton somehow still moving, perfectly visible from feet to skull and absolutely denuded of all flesh and muscle, lunges forwards and lets off with a blurt of bolter rounds that skitter up the Riptide's legs before he collapses on his side and lays still.

Emboldened, the Fire Warriors redouble their attack and I see several marines collapse as pulse rounds rip through them. With a scream like a hundred tortured souls Modak hurtles into the midst of the Fire Warriors. His armour is scorched and shredded but he moves with preternatural speed, his claws disemboweling and reaping heads in swift succession. With a space cleared around him, the Riptide has no reason not to fire but the Mahtar Charkaz slips sideways as if trans-locating, his movements too quick to see. Backing up the Riptide continues to lay down fire, the stones all around Modak turned to bubbling slag but nothing touches him. Launching forwards he jumps onto the Riptide's chest like a felid on a curtain, the battlesuit's cumbersome gun jabbing around in an attempt to dislodge him. He manages to rip chunks from the armour and in desperation the Tau pilot jets forwards, smashing chest first into a glass fronted building and sending Modak flying across the polished marble floor within but he is using his own jump pack to barrel right back onto the Riptide.

It knocks him away again, staggering backwards across the plaza and lifting into the air, Modak following with a screech, mobbing the larger battlesuit like a crow chasing a buzzard. The Riptide crashes back down and a blistering fusillade of shots forces Modak to his feet as well. With quick grace the Ion Accelerator hoses Modak and he is lost within the blue light of the attack. The steam blows away and Modak, stood awkwardly on his raptor's talons, glowers up at the battlesuit, ancient mechanisms within his armour flaring like caged lightning. The Ion Accelerator fires again, to the same effect and in a final effort to slay the warrior stalking towards it, the Riptide engages its Nova Reactor. A fatal mistake. The dangerous energies harnessed by the alien Earth Caste engineers malfunctions and a cone of blue/white light erupts through the battlesuit which staggers to its knees. Still not quite dead, the machine has strength enough to look up as Modak steps before it and screams. Xenos alloys and rare materials liquefy under the barrage and within, the tiny Tau pilot detonates in a fountain of smoking gore.

The rest of the aliens and their loathsome human allies quickly follow, pulled apart like roast fowl by vengeful hands. There is little of the wounded left to check but to my horror Aecodd yet lives. I scoop him out of his ruined armour, the raw ceramite scoring grooves in my gauntlets, and lay him out on the cracked slabs. It takes all of our combined synthi-flesh to cover him although the Emperor's Mercy would surely be a better option. In all my long decades of life, I have never seen anything like it. Four of the marines are dead but my Brothers opt to carry them back to the waiting transports, none of us willing to leave the fallen behind.

"You should not have come back." Modak's helmet cocks to one side as he regards Croagan who does not meet his gaze.

"No. We should not have. Brother Carleeson couns-"

"Brother Carlesson went along with the plan of his own free will." I cut in before Croagan can finish.

"You should not have come back." Modak repeats. "But you have my thanks Brothers."
   
Made in gb
Mighty Vampire Count






UK

Brilliant story - can;t wait for more

I AM A MARINE PLAYER

"Unimaginably ancient xenos artefact somewhere on the planet, hive fleet poised above our heads, hidden 'stealer broods making an early start....and now a bloody Chaos cult crawling out of the woodwork just in case we were bored. Welcome to my world, Ciaphas."
Inquisitor Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos

"I will admit that some Primachs like Russ or Horus could have a chance against an unarmed 12 year old novice but, a full Battle Sister??!! One to one? In close combat? Perhaps three Primarchs fighting together... but just one Primarch?" da001

www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/528517.page

A Bloody Road - my Warhammer Fantasy Fiction 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

Thank you. I was really slow with this update so will try and get the next one up more swiftly!

Be Pure!
Be Vigilant!
BEHAVE!

Show me your god and I'll send you a warhead because my god's bigger than your god.
 
   
Made in ca
Longtime Dakkanaut






Toronto

This si really nice!

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Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

Cheers lliu and thanks for reading along I'm quite surprised I've still got ideas for the story to be honest, usually I run out after three posts!!!

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2015/08/20 23:59:40


Be Pure!
Be Vigilant!
BEHAVE!

Show me your god and I'll send you a warhead because my god's bigger than your god.
 
   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

I'm glad you didn't stop!


[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

I intended that last little fight to go a bit differently but I guess I just forgot as I was typing! I have some ideas for what's coming up though so there is definitely more to come. Thanks for reading and for the comments

Be Pure!
Be Vigilant!
BEHAVE!

Show me your god and I'll send you a warhead because my god's bigger than your god.
 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

"It's a ceramite breastplate Vedrius, no matter how many times you tug at it it's not going to move."

"But the helmet seal keeps touching the hair on the back of my neck and it's very irritating."

"Then shave your hair off then. Why do you think the rest of us do it?"

Vedrius looks up at Croagan with an expression that conveys utter disgust, as if he'd just been told that excrement actually has quite a pleasant, nutty taste once you get used to it.

"That's hardly the point is it Croagan? Besides, I like my hair."

Brother Wilfran makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a throat clearing cough, it is the sound an old man might make just before he begins a sentence with, 'back in my day.' Wilfran is seven-hundred-and-fifty-eight years old and he looks every second of them.

"Space Wolves grow their hair long and they have beards." We pause in case there is any more wisdom to be imparted but Wilfran looks half asleep.

"Yeah... And imagine what that must be like when the helmets go on, it's no wonder they're all mad."

"That and the ale."

"And the wolves."

"And the women."

"I thought that was just a myth?"

"He's thinking of the Salamanders."

"Heh heh heh! I always thought there was something off about all that 'unto the anvil of war' guff. Promethean Creed..."

"No, it's definitely the Space Wolves, there might even have been an Eldar involved."

"Disgustin'! Back in my day we used to make 'em suffer! We didn't have no 'alliances' with xenos scum! That's what's the matter with these little blue devils, too much friendly 'hobnobbin' with Inquisitors, that's what that's all about. Think we're soft. Make 'em suffer...!"

"You seem very defensive Wilfran. Anything you wish to get off your chest?" Croagan teases but he crosses his arms with a frown of mock disapproval.

Wilfran tilts his head back, eyes rolling with a mad glaze and his mouth gapes, teeth bared, a half snarl, half disgusted grimace. A noise comes from deep out of his throat like the hiss of an asthmatic snake.

Nurez snorts and then gives a dirty chuckle, slapping Croagan on the thigh with a slight pout as the impact of her hand on ceramite stings her palm. It's difficult to lie to a Space Marine. We don't always understand the nuances of human behaviour but when you can stretch a second out into minutes, replay memories at will and with perfect recall and even smell the most subtle change in body chemistry, that which may be hidden even to you is broadcast loud and clear. Nurez looks at Croagan from beneath her eyebrows and her hand lingers just that little too long on his leg although she cannot know that the sensors built into the ceramite skin of Astartes powered armour coupled with the Black Carapace means that Croagan can feel every movement of her hand as if it were against his bare flesh. I consider my Brother to be one of the more human of us but I wonder what thoughts are passing through his head. Is it possible to sexually assault a Space Marine?

She looks around at us with a frown and the question forms somewhere at the back of her jaw and works its way forwards, around her eyes and down to her mouth and pours out of her.

"So... Do you boys have, 'families' back home?"

"We all probably have blood relations somewhere but it is highly unlikely that any of our parents or siblings still live." I say, and I do not think I have ever truly considered it before. I know that I had parents as a matter of biological fact but I do not remember their faces or anything particular about my birth family, their fates are irrelevant.

"No, I meant, you know, wives, girlfriends? Do any of you have kids?"

"I do not even know if it is possible for an Astartes to father offspring. Our modifications change us at a genetic level, it may well be that an Astartes is too removed from ordinary humanity to breed. I know of no such attempt to try. Nor do we engage in romantic relationships."

"But you must have needs, no? All men have needs."

"But we are not men." Says Croagan and in the shadow of the cab he looms with a face obscured and stony. The constant smile that ghosts about Nurez's lips falters.

Seven feet or more in height, fifty stone or more in weight, bone denser and harder than stone and almost impossible to break, muscles so much more efficient than a human's that it is not unknown for a Space Marine to die on his feet and remain standing such is their power and numerous other biological systems that put us so far in advance of a man that it seems ludicrous to imagine us as anything alike. Croagan steals her smile and in the darkness it is not friendly.

"What you are asking is, do Space Marines need or desire sex or love and the answer is no. Both of those things are symptoms of an organism that reproduces sexually and what you think of as lust and love are merely manifestations of your DNA ensuring it is passed on. We do not have those genetic controls and so we are free to perform the task for which we were created and that is to wage the Emperor's wars." Croagan looks to Modak, the Mahtar Charkaz being the closest thing we have to a spiritual guide. "What say you Brother Modak? Would you agree with my assessment?"

"A cynic might say that the real reason we Astartes safeguard mankind is to ensure a viable pool of breeding stock. We are all human to begin with and we each contain the means to produce more Astartes, once we have found a suitable human host of course."

"But our purpose is to serve and the tenets of the Codex Astartes dictate the maximum number for a Chapter and it is only the High Lords who can decree the creation of more Chapters."

"Not all our willing to serve, Brother Croagan."

"Hah. It seems to me," I say, interjecting before Croagan can say anything else and as the thought strikes me. "that would be a supreme irony, if it were true."

"In what way, Brother Carleeson?"

"That those of us who serve would be the least human."

"An interesting thought Brother."

"Hey I hate to disrupt the debating society back there but I see something up ahead!" Dright calls to us over his shoulder and I turn to look through the windscreen.

"Oh."





**********




I don't know where I'm going with some of these posts but there it is!
   
Made in ca
Stormin' Stompa






Ottawa, ON

Good to see more of this. An interesting discussion, inspired by the debates on the forums perhaps?

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Mighty Vampire Count






UK

Thanks great to read

I AM A MARINE PLAYER

"Unimaginably ancient xenos artefact somewhere on the planet, hive fleet poised above our heads, hidden 'stealer broods making an early start....and now a bloody Chaos cult crawling out of the woodwork just in case we were bored. Welcome to my world, Ciaphas."
Inquisitor Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos

"I will admit that some Primachs like Russ or Horus could have a chance against an unarmed 12 year old novice but, a full Battle Sister??!! One to one? In close combat? Perhaps three Primarchs fighting together... but just one Primarch?" da001

www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/528517.page

A Bloody Road - my Warhammer Fantasy Fiction 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

Thank you for the comments fellas. Those topics do come up regularly so, percolating around in the back of my brain, they must be the inspiration for this but I figure that, since these people don't know anything about Marines, they have no awe beyond what anyone might have for a huge armoured soldier that is so they can ask questions.

Be Pure!
Be Vigilant!
BEHAVE!

Show me your god and I'll send you a warhead because my god's bigger than your god.
 
   
Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut





Nottinghamshire

Glad to see another update. And quite eloquently handled.


[ Mordian 183rd ] - an ongoing Imperial Guard story with crayon drawings!
[ "I can't believe it's not Dakka!" ] - a buttery painting and crafting blog
 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

Thank you

I worry that maybe these interludes get a bit samey-samey (even though I imagine that there is a lot of sitting around waiting to get somewhere) but then the bolter porn can get samey-samey too, so... If people are entertained for a few minutes then job done

This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2015/10/16 23:41:24


Be Pure!
Be Vigilant!
BEHAVE!

Show me your god and I'll send you a warhead because my god's bigger than your god.
 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

(Something short just to ease back into things.)


I watch the marine transport die even as we overtake it. The cab shreds like confetti and the driver is reduced to a howling skeleton in seconds. There isn't much blood, the flesh of the driver's face and chest, his uniform, all flutter away like dry threads unravelling. The cab roof, windscreen, engine and front wheels all go the same way until the front end is a jagged spike of twisted metal the drops down and punches into the road. Unsecured humans are catapulted from the wreck and die instantly. As Korhein accelerates away I see many of the human troops staggering from the wreck.

It took longer than I would have liked for us to reach the convoy and by the time we did it was already under attack. The enemy was not initially visible until a lucky hit from an exploding transport disabled whatever stealth mechanism was making it invisible. It is an anti-grav tank with a profile so low its crew, if it even has one, must be almost lain flat. It is matt black and angular and even though I can see it, it doesn't show on the auspex. A thin barrel projects half again the machine's length ahead of the hull. The effects look like solid ammunition but I expect it to be some kind of energy weapon.

It moves like a hover fly, quick bursts of movement that jink it around swiftly before it settles again, perfectly motionless. As we begin to come parallel to its current position I see that it is daubed along the left side with symbols I have come to associate with the Kesslin forces that appose us, as well as Tau markings. The hull has been modified inexpertly with crude welding. Based on what I have seen so far I would say that it is another piece of Kredesh technology re-purposed by the Tau and the human allies. Its attacks are dramatic and swift but it is a glass hammer. I wait for it to jink again and then open fire with my bolter, aiming for the crude repairs. The bolts chew through the hull and the machine drops like a stone hitting the road with all the integrity of a cardboard box.

Another transport slews wildly across the road behind us and hits the downed craft, obliterating it; I see Gordreg standing in the troop bay and I can see him cackling. His amusement is premature as more weapons fire starts from up ahead. This was no lone hunter, just a scout for a much larger force. Finally, I think, time for some real fighting.
   
Made in au
Fresh-Faced New User




AWESOME READ! ty!
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

I'm glad you enjoyed it, thanks for the reply

Determined to get this one finished so, updates more than once every six months should be in order!!

Be Pure!
Be Vigilant!
BEHAVE!

Show me your god and I'll send you a warhead because my god's bigger than your god.
 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

My name is Carleeson and I am a Battle-Brother of the Prophets of Hatred Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. But before I ever heard the words 'Space Marine' I was born for war. War is not battle, it is not conflict or even violence. It is something beyond flesh, beyond steel. War is two atoms colliding together, it is the underpinning of the universe, the fundamental aspect of all existence. War is flesh, War is steel. War is the air we breath, the ground we stand upon, the light in the heavens. War is everything.

And War is eternal.

But I am a human creature and I am limited to the biological functions and imperatives of any living being. Even with the Emperor's devine blood flowing in my veins, I am still shackled to a mortal point-of-view. I know what War is but even still, in order to truly comprehend that truth I would need to become War itself.
In the mean time I get as close as humanly possible.


Ahead of the convoy is an army. It is Tau and their alien and human allies. It is also a prison train. There are twenty of them, male and female. They are non-descript, but their very ordinariness is in itself unusal. They are brawny but not over-muscled, lean but not undernourished. There is a fleck of something not quite natural in the sheen of their skin and as the distance closes I can see that they are laced with bionic augmentations which are almost invisible, a clear indication of their advanced nature. The shackles on their wrists and ankles look strong enough to hold even an Astartes. Chained down to the deck of the prison transport are two large bipedal constructions. I think at first they could be armour but on a second glance I believe them to be more advanced versions of the MAN used by the human marines. Robots. They have a passing resemblace to the captured grav-tank.

The Tau react first and efficiently, pulse rounds targeting wheels and drivers in the convoy. There is much to admire in the Tau's Fire Warriors, their marksmanship being only one thing. The lead transport swerves sharply as its driver is killed, quickly followed by the tyres being shot out. The combined effect causes the vehicle to flip on its side. It rolls over once before leaping into the air and coming back down in a pancaking heap. A few jerky movements indicate survivors but the electric blue of pulse rounds whicker into the stricken vehicle and all movement ceases. Pintle mounts on the marine transports return fire, suppressing the Tau. Autocannon rounds from one of my Brother's then chew apart those fast acting Fire Warriors.

Kroot warriors come on in leaps and bounds, using the pulverised transport as cover, the burlier aliens banging off shots with their crude rifles to buy time for their blue-skinned masters to bring their deadlier weaponry to bear. One of the Tau's human auxilliaries reverses a flat-bed vehicle up to the transport to create a barrier across the road. I see the man driving the vehicle, see him glance at the onrushing convoy. His adrenaline is pumping but he isn't panicked, he's moving fast, but smooth. What does he see when he looks at his alien allies? What does he see when he looks at his human adversaries? How does a man come to betray his own kind? I do not know what thoughts might run through his head but I know my bolter shell does as it blows out the front of his skull before detonating in his brain, obliterating him from the chest up. Traitor.

Lascannon beams carve mercilessly into the carcass of the transport; if there are any marines left alive they die for certain now. The transport is carved apart and a volley of missiles blast the wreckage off the road and take the kroot with it. The rear end of the human flat-bed bursts into flames, oily black smoke billowing out from its rear tyres as they burn. Human military vehicles are already turning so their mounted weapons can be brought to bear, Tau machines glide into place and Fire Warriors and human soldiers scramble into firing positions along the side of the road.

It's all too little too late, for the convoy is already into the midst of them. Modak screams past, his jump pack flaring as he lands on top of a Fire Warrior like a bird of prey. I get just enough time to loose one more aimed shot from my bolter, a perfect hit on the chains of one of the prisoners, the warhead punching clean through the shackles binding her wrists, the mass-reactive tumbling harmlessly across the deck; I just hope one of the fools doesn't think to pick it up or they'll lose their arm.

Even as my own transport barrels into the enemy force I leap and I get just enough of a glance of the shocked face of a Fire Warrior to laugh out loud, before my boots crush the xenos into paste.
   
Made in ca
Stormin' Stompa






Ottawa, ON

Good to see more additions to this story. I particularly like the brief reflections during the combat, it makes for reflections on Carleeson's part.

Ask yourself: have you rated a gallery image today? 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

I'm glad you don't find it jarring to have all these little asides thrown in. I can't say it's particularly deliberate, most of this stuff is just what comes out as I type but I'd like for it to show Carleeson's character as well as that of the Chapter which is half my intention with this story; which reminds me of something I was going to include in this next instalment but I guess it'll have to keep for another time!

Thanks for the comments and for reading along


**********



Pulse fire brackets Wilfran as he clubs down a kroot. He rolls around the shots and drops to one knee and returns fire with a bolt pistol but I can see the blood bubbling from his armour, his lungs shot through. He coughs up blood and for a second our eyes meet. Death is often an almost imperceptible thing, a slackening of the eye muscles for instance. I see Wilfran's pupils unfocus and know that he is gone. When we are done here Wilfran's memories will be shared amongst my Brothers and he will live again, in us.

The Tau are unsuited to this kind of up close and brutal warfare. It is where we Astartes excel however. The mass of Tau and human vehicles prevent the Fire Warriors from a quick withdrawal and redeployment. The aliens know what we are, they know what we can do, but their human allies are ignorant. Maybe they think we are like their robotic warmachines, tough but mindless, easily destroyed once outmaneuvered. Maybe they think we are just armoured men, that we will try and withdraw like their alien friends, to give ground, redeploy, avoid the bullets.

I choose my next target: a bipod mounted heavy machine gun, crew served. The two Arch troopers see me turn towards them and swivel the gun around. I step right onto their bullets; it feels like being punched through a pillow by a small child. Another dozen troopers have fallen back into a line centred on the gun, they all watch as I soak up the bullets. With a thought I ramp up the volume on my external vox emitters and my battle cry is a distorted bellow of jagged static. It takes seconds to reach the crew and I feel bullets cracking through the hasty repair in my plastron. I still hurt from the wound I took aboard Cage but nothing in life gives me the sort of fierce joy I feel as I snatch up the machine gun and hurl it away.

The crouching troopers fall back, mewling and shouting with panic. I kick the rightmost one in the face and he goes down like a puppet with its strings cut, his jaw and right cheek crushed. The other one fumbles for a pistol but his arm has tangled in his webbing. It takes a moment for him to get his arm free and in that same instant I remove Mokorro's old warhelm. The trooper pauses with his gun half aimed and I smile before spitting acid in his face. He screams. He drops the gun and puts both hands to his face, curls of ashy white smoke coming from his melting flesh.

I step towards the next trooper, too stunned to even react, and stave his skull in with the old Mark IV helmet before I put it back on; it wouldn't do to get shot in the face now. My bolter discharges, and this death is very easily perceived. The bolt explodes on contact, the armour piercing warhead blasting chunks of flesh like thrown chum before the mass-reactive burrows into the chest. The trooper's armour keeps his body in one piece but the explosion vents through his throat and groin. Two more die before the rest react but not to fight back. Some flee but the one that gets my undivided attention is a female trooper who just holds her rifle above her head in surrender.

I could kill her and my instinct is to do so, but accepting her surrender serves my purpose in this moment. If I seem to secure this one prisoner now then others, hearing of this battle, may also believe they can surrender. If they think they will die either way they may be more resolved to fight to the death, as the majority of the Imperium's enemies do. Many may consider it deceitful, that to feign mercy to an enemy that deserves only death is beneath the dignity of a servant of the Emperor.

There is more to war than simple killing however. It is not practicable to kill every human on this world, whose governments have chosen to defy the Imperium even if they themselves may not have, and I defeat those masses now by sparing this woman. I make a show of lowering my boltgun as one of her comrades looks back before disappearing from view into the trees.

A flurry of missiles obliterates a squad of marines as a Tau Sky Ray glides into position. As I said, the Tau know what we are and they know what we do, they expect no quarter and so they give none.

"Kill the Gue'la! Kill them all!" The Tau's voice cracks as it screams and I have to throw myself in front of the woman to stop her being cut down by pulse rounds. I cannot keep the smile from my face. Thank you Tau, thank you!

A pair of lascannon beams punch into the Sky Ray, cooking off its ammunition. The vehicle crumps into the ground and flames gutter around its missile turret. A side hatch is thrown open and a choking Tau falls to the ground. Fire Warriors move forwards and one of the xenos hauls the coughing pilot away from the wreck, firing his carbine one handed. Modak slams onto the side of the hull like a bat and his head swivels before unleashing a sonic scream. The pilot and his would-be rescuer burst with Fire Caste up to several metres away sagging to their knees as their flesh and the cloth of their uniforms sloughs away from their bones. Those on the periphery of the Mahtar Charkaz's attack stagger back, flailing before turning on their heels and running for the safety of the forest along with their human allies.

I look around and see that the battle is over. Several of my Brother's are dead and the rest are gathering in the midst of the Tau convoy, surrounded by the vehicles and grav-tanks that thought they could kill us. Further back are the marines, counting their own losses and salvaging what they can from their own destroyed transports. Dead foes litter the far right of the road where the released prisoners systematically butchered their way through their would-be jailers, the two battle automata standing at their backs; the machines twitch and shuffle as if eager for more battle but they seem under control for the moment.

I step back and turn, looking down at my own prisoner. She looks stunned, which is fair enough. She looks passed me and frowns.

"A child?"

I turn further and look at Ashney as she approaches, pistol raised. "Yes. I saved quite a number of them from a squad of your elite troops. They had been hunting them, killing everyone they found." I hunker down next to the woman as she stares into the barrel of Ashney's pistol and then whisper, "I wouldn't make any sudden movements if I were you, the girl doesn't haven't much tolerance for your people after what they've done."

The trooper's frown deepens and she shakes her head and I see the tears building. "No. No no no no! We don't do things like that. We don't kill children!"

"The evidence speaks for itself. Your comrades, your political masters and your Tau allies, have slaughtered millions, burnt them to ashes and destroyed entire cities. You deny this?"

"I, I..." I pull the soldier to her feet, her weapon forgotten at her feet. Ashney stops beside me and I watch her carefully secure her weapon and smooth down her dirty shirt.

"You wish to rebuke me child?" She doesn't answer, save to shake her head. She tilts her head to one side and eyes the woman. With one hand she reaches out and takes the soldier's gloved hand in hers, turning it over and sliding her fingers down the woman's. Ashney shrugs and walks away, stepping over the bodies of the dead.

"That is what your people have made of her."

"What will you do with me?"

"Nothing, you have already served your purpose to me." I raise my boltgun to her head.

"Don't!" Ashney is coming back. With handcuffs.

"This woman is an enemy of the Emperor. I allowed her to live long enough to send a message to her cowardly fellows. She should die now."

"But she gave up."

"And? You feel this entitles her to live?"

"If someone gives up then you should give up too." She sounds definite.

"And who told you that drivel?" I lower my bolter and walk away. "Fine, but you want to take her prisoner then you can be responsible for her." I keep walking towards my Brother's but stop for a moment and turn back. "And Ashney, when she betrays you, don't look to me to save you."
   
Made in gb
Mighty Vampire Count






UK

More great story telling - well done sir

I AM A MARINE PLAYER

"Unimaginably ancient xenos artefact somewhere on the planet, hive fleet poised above our heads, hidden 'stealer broods making an early start....and now a bloody Chaos cult crawling out of the woodwork just in case we were bored. Welcome to my world, Ciaphas."
Inquisitor Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos

"I will admit that some Primachs like Russ or Horus could have a chance against an unarmed 12 year old novice but, a full Battle Sister??!! One to one? In close combat? Perhaps three Primarchs fighting together... but just one Primarch?" da001

www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/528517.page

A Bloody Road - my Warhammer Fantasy Fiction 
   
Made in gb
Renegade Kan Killin Orks






Northern Ireland

Started reading this way back, only getting back to it now, havnt quite caught up yet but it's all great so far!

Thanks for a great read, I'm really enjoying it.

   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

Thank you both for the kind words and I'm glad you've enjoyed the story! I think I might use the new characters to zoop this along to a conclusion, it's taken me long enough as it is.

Be Pure!
Be Vigilant!
BEHAVE!

Show me your god and I'll send you a warhead because my god's bigger than your god.
 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

Yorghad Kneels down over Tariem's corpse and strips the plastron away with careful movements. Tariem was only twenty-seven Terran years old, both his Progenoid Glands had yet to be harvested so Yorghad cuts him open. I watch Tariem's head move slightly from the tremors of the Reductor biting into his throat and the blood only trickling from the wound, now that his hearts have stopped. It is strange how the small things can cause the most affect.

My own Progenoids have long since been harvested and it has been a strange privilege for me to fight beside Brother's who were created from my own gene-seed. You may think that a Brotherhood of a thousand warriors is a small number but I have known in all my centuries only a few score of my fellow Prophets of Hatred. A Chapter is an ancient and complicated beast, there are many elements to it that any given member might never know. I have heard it said than some foster those made from their own flesh, that there are lineages of great warriors whose living descendants stand apart from the rest of us, that they even feel that they stand above us. Then there are dark legends, like that of the Vituperator, said to be a thousand warriors and one. Stories for Initiates.

I've heard the raised voices for several minutes now but I have chosen to ignore them but the sounds of weapons being readied drags my attention away from observing the rites due my fallen Brothers. Croagan steps across towards me eyeing the developing situation between the marines and the former Tau prisoners.

"Should we leave them to it or do you want to get involved?"

"Neither." I sigh, a gesture unfit for an Astartes but dealing with the humans is a draining business. They weary me more thoroughly than the fiercest fighting.

The prisoners are stood in two ranks, flanked by their constructs, facing off against a semi-circle of marines who have their weapons raised. The prisoners are armed with a mix of pulse carbines, kroot rifles and Arch troop autopistols. As I approach, Commander Brant jabs a finger, hard, into the chest of the female prisoner I freed. With super-human speed she grabs his wrist and spins him around, choking him with his own arm whilst using her captured pistol to cover the other marines who are all barking and shouting orders. Over it all the female prisoner raises her voice, hissing directly into Brant's ear.

"Touch me again, and you will die. Take this as a lesson in manners." Her accent is precise, not quite clipped but oddly annunciated as if she is speaking each word individually and then splicing them together into one sentence. Her skin is pale but her hair is completely translucent but somehow lit from within, giving it a pinkish tinge, some kind of cy-grafting? It is scraped back into a long braid and reaches almost to her waist. On the right side of her neck and extending down onto her back is an elaborate tattoo and the sub-dermal implants I noticed earlier look like silvery white lines in her flesh. With a shove she throws Brant towards his people and I see her left arm is completely bionic but far in advance of anything I have seen in those not of the highest orders of the Mechanicus; the main structure of the limb is a white ceramic material from the looks of it, perfectly imitating human bone, the muscles and sinews of the limb are equally biological in design all blurred beneath a fleshy, clear 'skin' that, were it darker, might render the bionic indistinguishable from a natural human limb.

For the first time since I have known him I see real anger in Brant's eyes. He puts his arms out to hold back the marines whilst drawing himself up to his full height.

"Take their weapons, kill them if they resist."

"We won't-" The female prisoner begins before I cut her off.

"Is there a problem Commander Brant?" They were all so intent on each other that they didn't even notice my approach. Close at hand my armoured form dwarfs the humans, even the battle automata, heads and shoulders above the humans, cannot match my bulk or sheer physical presence.

"Do you know what these, these 'people' are, Brother Carleeson?"

"Allies?" I say sardonically, although Brant doesn't seem to appreciate my facetiousness.

"These are Kredesh Zotacks!" He all but spits the words from his mouth. "Dangerous, murderous and utter ruthless, they-"

"Sound like us." Gordreg interrupts, joining me. "They fought alongside us, seems good enough to me. Your prejudice is irrelevant so long as these 'zotacks' kill Tau and their xenophile comrades."

"And if they acknowledge the Imperium." I add, eyeing the Kredesh soldiers.

"Imperium?" The female is defensive but I sense her curiosity.

"The Imperium of Man, the human empire that spans this galaxy from edge to edge. The Tau are an upstart race that harass the Imperium's furthermost border here on the Eastern Fringe. This world is to be brought into compliance, to rejoin the human race and the Imperium."

"And if one does not wish to join the Imperium?" The female asks but I only smile and hold out an open hand to indicate the ruination of the Tau convoy.

"The aliens, the Tau, they too spoke of their Empire, and of your Imperium too, I wanted to hear you explain it in your own words. They say that your Imperium is weak and backwards, that you worship a distant god and pray to your machines. They say their Empire has taken many worlds from the Imperium and that the humans their have welcomed them and flourished."

"There are more humans on one hive world than there are Tau in their entire empire and the Imperium has tens of thousands of hive worlds. The Tau believe in their 'Greater Good' the Tau'va in their own tongue, and they believe that snatching a few dozen barely populated human worlds is something to boast about. They have no true understanding of how insignificant they are. They spread throughout this area of space because it suits the Imperium to ignore them, there are far mightier foes to take care of first.

"These things are of no concern to you however. What you should concentrate on is your immediate survival. None who oppose the Imperium may be permitted to live. The Tau took you prisoner and we have already seen evidence that Kredesh technology has been used by them and their allies on this world but you are the first Kredesh we have seen. You are not allies to the Tau that is clear but if you think your people can remain isolated after the war here is over then you are again mistaken. You must choose: Humanity, the Imperium and the Emperor of Mankind, or, Death."

There is a glint in her eyes and a smile almost forms and I think that she might actually like to chose to oppose us for the hell of it. Instead she stands to attention and smacks a fist into her left shoulder in an ancient salute. Her fellows do the same and even the battle automata echo the gesture. She flicks a quick glance at Brant and again, I sense her holding back a smirk.

"You can't be serious about letting these animals join the Imperium Brother Carleeson?"

"In the fight for survival, Commander Brant, there can be no bystanders." I turn to face the female warrior and remove my helmet. "I warn you however that if your acceptance of Imperial governance is a ruse to expedite matters in your favour for now, you will regret your duplicity." A flicker of irritation passes over the Zotack's face.

"I have sworn."

"Good." I study her for another moment. "My name is Carleeson, I am a Battle-Brother of the Prophets of Hatred Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. Who are you?"

"Zylvia Mordran, Zotack-a'Shal of the Lizzet Pah'shadath." She stands up taller but her designations are as foreign to me as mine will be to her.

"How were you taken prisoner and where?"

"We have- had, a covert monitoring base on the west coast. The aliens encroached on our Eastern territory and were immediately countered by our unmanned defense systems. There were some limited diplomatic overtures made afterwards but it was decided that the threat of their military presence made any negotiations moot, it was clear from what had transpired on the rest of the planet that these, Tau, would not take no for an answer. Much like yourselves for that matter.

"When it became clear that we would not be cooperating with them the full weight of their power was brought against us. They were rebuffed. They then turned to a stealth war and began capturing our personnel and equipment for study. We believe this is how they obtained the intelligence that allowed them to pinpoint and neutralise our base as well as the weaponry that allowed them to disable our battle suits, drones and even us.

"I will not lie to you; it was a humiliation. They disarmed us, took us prisoner and were moving us to somewhere in Kesslin for, 'interrogation'. The birdlike aliens made many remarks about eating us, to make our strength theirs. If that's what they mean by the Greater Good they can keep it."

"You reactivated the battle-automata, how?" Mordran frowns at the question.

"Simple enough for those instructed in the operation of the systems. I see you have one of your own, but it did not fight, why?"

"The MAN's combat wetware was removed." Brant answers. Clearly it would be an advantage if 'Bob' could fight and the Commander isn't so intransigent that he cannot see that.

"It would be a straight forward matter to re-enable it for combat." Mordran offers.

"Perhaps." Brant is clearly uncomfortable and he turns away, snapping orders to his.

"You are making for Kesslin yourselves?" Mordran asks, turning to me as the marines depart.

"Yes. Our objective is the Tau leadership. Without one of their Ethereal Caste to direct them the Tau will lose co-ordination and the will to fight on. Kill the Ethereal and this war will effectively be over."

"It will take you many days in these vehicles. It might be possible to get you there quicker."

"Explain."

"If we can salvage the right equipment I can contact my superiors, despatch a Shiva assault craft. It could take us all the way in just a matter of hours."

"I knew I liked this one Carleeson." Gordreg chimes in and I have to agree. I have no doubt that the Kredesh have their own agenda but if it coincides with ours for now then I am happy to go along with it, and my Brother's also, if it means we can finally take the fight to the Tau more quickly.

"Do it."
   
Made in ca
Stormin' Stompa






Ottawa, ON

I appreciate the irony of Brant's disdain. Claiming one group to be savages while loyally fallowing space marines who have clearly shown to be equally savage.

Ask yourself: have you rated a gallery image today? 
   
Made in gb
Mighty Vampire Count






UK

Ohh enhanced humans - I like this - kinda cyberpunk...... although any techmarines may not be too happy with them ..........given their Mechancius upbringing

Like the nuances of the Chapter background you are bringing in

Great new addition - look forward to the next

I AM A MARINE PLAYER

"Unimaginably ancient xenos artefact somewhere on the planet, hive fleet poised above our heads, hidden 'stealer broods making an early start....and now a bloody Chaos cult crawling out of the woodwork just in case we were bored. Welcome to my world, Ciaphas."
Inquisitor Amberley Vail, Ordo Xenos

"I will admit that some Primachs like Russ or Horus could have a chance against an unarmed 12 year old novice but, a full Battle Sister??!! One to one? In close combat? Perhaps three Primarchs fighting together... but just one Primarch?" da001

www.dakkadakka.com/dakkaforum/posts/list/528517.page

A Bloody Road - my Warhammer Fantasy Fiction 
   
Made in gb
Mekboy Hammerin' Somethin'





Papua New Guinea

 Mr Nobody wrote:
I appreciate the irony of Brant's disdain. Claiming one group to be savages while loyally fallowing space marines who have clearly shown to be equally savage.


I suppose I like the idea that the characters, whether protagonist or antagonist are all more or less the same, neither better or worse than each other. Without even mentioning the possible conspiracy theories about the Tau I think it's fair to say they are pretty ruthless and that holds true for the other factions I think, they do what they think is right which ostensibly is a noble thing and yet, to step back and view it all from a distance they are all violent, often savage and only interested in their own agendas.

 Mr Morden wrote:
Ohh enhanced humans - I like this - kinda cyberpunk...... although any techmarines may not be too happy with them ..........given their Mechancius upbringing

Like the nuances of the Chapter background you are bringing in

Great new addition - look forward to the next


Thank you for the compliments

I've had some enhanced humans before in another story and I really liked the idea of the geno troops from the Horus Heresy novels. I also like the idea of technologically advanced human societies. Like you say, once the Mechanicus get there dendrites into something it's pretty much game over for those people but it makes sense to me that outside of their influence, normal humans are capable of trying to improve things so I like to indulge in these ideas from time to time!! At one time I had the Techmarines as pretty integral to the Chapter's leadership but they've developed as something so fractured and fractionated I'll need to have a good think about how these traditional Space Marine officer types fit in. I was thinking the other day about how the priestly aspect of the Mechanicus doesn't get touched on much it might be interesting to play that out with a techmarine, make him a more spiritual and priestly rather than just a glorified mechanic/blacksmith.

I think I stole a line from Game of Thrones for the Vituperator, I'm pretty sure the Three Eyed Crow is 'a thousand and eyes and one' but whatever! I had the idea for him in another story that I just never used, I think I might have been thinking of using the CSM Codex and he was the Prophets version of Kharn.

Be Pure!
Be Vigilant!
BEHAVE!

Show me your god and I'll send you a warhead because my god's bigger than your god.
 
   
 
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